


Way Back Inn Days of Olde

by blindmadness



Category: Galavant (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bed & Breakfast, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 11:44:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8978326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blindmadness/pseuds/blindmadness
Summary: In between displeased guests, an increasingly pathetic business partner, and a woman on a mission showing up on their doorstep, Sid Land (co-owner of the Knight and Squire Inn) has a lot on his plate.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [impertinency](https://archiveofourown.org/users/impertinency/gifts).



> I LOVE this fandom, and I LOVED all of your prompts for it, and this was the one that stuck out to me most. It ended up being a brief, straight AU of the show's premise rather than a fully immersive one based on the setting, because that's just how my brain tends to work, but I hope it's still enjoyable!
> 
> Several lines of dialogue are taken directly or almost-directly from the pilot. I was, er, rather uncreative with the characters' last names, ha, as well as the B&B's. Apologies for the truly awful title, too, I genuinely could not resist. >_> And finally, though the fic itself is gen, I did intend for it to be leaning in a pre-OT3 direction, so read that into it (or not) at will!

The pleasant, perfectly sweet customer-service smile stays on Sid’s face exactly two seconds after the door slams shut behind the Knight and Squire Inn’s latest guests. Then it drops like a brick, replaced by a fierce scowl as he yells over his shoulder, _“Galavant!”_

Silence. Of course. It’s still half an hour before noon, Sid thinks darkly; not even close to time for His Royal Highness to be up and about.

Sid storms over to Galavant’s room and bangs on the door, more for emphasis (as well as the desire to irritate his surely-present hangover) than anything else. Then, without waiting for a reply, he flings the door open, groaning in exasperation at the sight of the half-empty bottle of cheap whiskey cradled in Galavant’s sleeping arms. He jerks it away and hits Galavant with the pillow that had toppled off the bed.

“Ow,” Galavant says plaintively, opening one bleary eye. “What do you want, Sid?”

Sid grinds his teeth together. “Gal,” he says patiently, “I went into business with you because you’re my best friend, and you’ve always been very driven, very successful at anything you set your mind to, and everything was, for the most part, going well—”

“What’s your point?” Galavant slurs, turning over to his other side.

Undeterred, Sid switches sides, too. “Things,” he grits out, “will not _keep_ going well if you continue responding to customer concerns with drunken obscenities!”

“They were bothering me.” Galavant opens an eye again to glare at Sid. “A lot like you are right now.”

“Galavant, I swear to fucking _god,”_ Sid says, and then he hears a ring at the door and he sighs, gathering as much patience as he can. “I’m going to go answer that,” he says, “and you are going to drink some water and an aspirin and take a goddamn shower, and then come _do your fucking job.”_

Galavant responds by burying his face in his remaining pillow, mumbling something that sounds a lot like “can’t make me.”

Sid is going to kill him. If he thought he were capable of running the whole bed and breakfast himself, he’d have done it weeks ago. “If I have to come back in here again,” he says over his shoulder as he leaves, low and threatening, “I’m bringing ice water and an air horn.”

“Bite me,” Galavant calls from the bed.

“Don’t tempt me!” Sid yells back before slamming the door and taking another long, deep breath to calm himself (even as the doorbell rings again, sounding almost impatient).

The first few weeks after everything had gone down the shitter with She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Sid had been sympathetic. He really had. But it’s been _months_ now, and Gal has left him to run the business they built together practically all on his own, and Sid is running out of patience as quickly as the bed and breakfast is running out of customers.

If nothing else, though, it’s given him a great deal of practice at putting up a pleasant and helpful front, so there’s a smile on his face when he opens the front door and coos, “Welcome to the Knight and Squire Inn, my name is Sid Land, how may I help you today?”

The woman at the door is short, well-dressed, and exceptionally pretty, if also on her own and absent any luggage but a small purse. Sid wonders for a moment if she’s lost, but then she squares her shoulders as if bracing herself for something unpleasant and says, “I’m looking for Gary Galavant. It’s very important that I speak to him as soon as possible.”

Sid’s smile falters. Galavant isn’t in any condition to talk to anyone right now, but if there’s one skill Sid hasn’t picked up in three years of running a business, it’s how to say no to people. “He’s—er, not available right now,” he manages, in what he knows is a less than convincing tone. “But if you, er, wanted to leave your contact information, I’m sure he’ll be able to get back to y—”

“No,” the woman interrupts him, tone fierce and urgent. “This can’t wait. If he’s here—get him for me. I need to speak with him. _Please.”_

Both of them, Sid thinks darkly, are going to regret this.

But he ushers the woman into the lobby and asks her if she needs anything, a drink or a chair, and when she responds in the negative, he all but runs back to Galavant’s room.

_“Gal,”_ he half-yells from the doorway to the motionless lump on the bed. “Woman here to see you. Says it’s _urgent._ Better not be another missed bill payment, asshole.”

He stays long enough to actually watch Galavant stumble to his feet, cursing under his breath in a constant stream. Then he heads back to the lobby and turns a blinding grin onto the woman, who gives a small, tight smile back. “He’ll just be a moment.”

Several minutes later—to his credit, the man can move when he needs to—Gal is stumbling into the lobby, fully dressed if looking rather far from presentable. Sid winces. The woman looks less than impressed.

Rather than approach the woman, Galavant stays in the doorway, leaning against the wall and fixing her with an impassive stare. “Well?”

The woman takes a deep breath, strides forward, and extends her hand to him, looking confident and unruffled. “Mr. Galavant, my name is Isabella Valencia, and I’ve come a long way to ask for your help. Four months ago, my family business was—I’m sorry, _what_ is that smell?”

“That would be me,” Gal says, without the slightest trace of shame. Miss Isabella Valencia is wrinkling her nose in a delicate expression of disgust. Sid wants to die.

Miss Valencia sighs, eyes briefly flitting to the ceiling as if asking for strength, and braces herself to continue. “Four months ago, my family business was taken over after the passing of a new zoning law. The law is unfair and restrictive and was passed only to further advantage the man who sponsored it. He’s taken over the land and intends to raze the building and construct something new in its place.”

Galavant shakes his head, pulling a mournful face. “Oh, that’s terrible. That’s just terrible.” He looks over Miss Valencia with a critical eye, then shrugs. “Still, you’ve got a nice way about you, I’m sure you’ll land on your feet. Nice meeting you, door’s back the way you came.”

And he turns to leave, clearly having every intention of going back to his room as if this encounter never happened.

Miss Valencia looks appalled, but rallies, moving forward until she’s blocking Gal's path. “That inn has been in our family for generations. It’s the source of our entire livelihood. We’re a wealthy family—I can compensate you for your help. Whatever you want. But you’re the only one who can help us. Please, _please_ help us fight this law. Help us get our home back.”

Galavant stares at her for a long moment, then blinks and says, “Sorry—I got distracted. What did you say after I said ‘nice meeting you, door’s back the way you came’?”

Sid is going to fucking _murder_ him. That is, if Miss Valencia doesn’t do it first.

“What’s the matter with you?” she snaps, actually stomping her foot. “I’ve read all about the great things you’ve done—the philanthropy, the defense of businesses that were in trouble, the charitable donations. I would never come here expecting you to help me for nothing, but I’m offering you money to perform a service, something you’ve successfully done before. And you’re dismissing me like you couldn’t care less. What is your problem?”

Sid can’t help himself; he lets out a long, loud snort. “Oh, boy. How long have you got?”

Gal shoots him a dirty look, which Sid pointedly ignores. He turns back to Miss Valencia, huffing a deliberately overwrought sigh. “Look. You’re right; I used to be that guy. But the person you’re looking for? He doesn’t exist anymore. And you’ll be much happier if you accept that, like I have.” A smirk, followed by a little shooing motion, so blatantly condescending that Miss Valencia gasps in outrage. “So—run along. There’s nothing for you here.”

And this time when he heads back towards his room, Miss Valencia doesn’t stop him.

“Fine!” she yells after him, hands clenched into fists. “If that’s how it is—fine! I hope you feel really great about yourself when you hear the news that business after business is going under because of Richard King’s terrible, cruel zoning laws, and that—”

And she stops, because Sid’s gasped aloud, and Gal’s frozen at the door. She turns to Sid, frowning faintly, but it’s Galavant who speaks first, turning around slowly.

“Did you say… Richard King?”

Miss Valencia gives him a dubious look, clearly taken aback by his sudden change in demeanor. Sid, though, feels a spark of hope; this, that focus and intensity, is the most he’s seen of the old Gal in weeks.

“Yes,” she says slowly. “He’s the councilman who pushed the law forward.”

“What is he doing passing zoning laws in a city far enough away that I’ve heard nothing about it?” Galavant snaps, striding forward until he’s right in front of Miss Valencia—who, to her credit, doesn’t falter in the slightest.

“He moved to our district about a year ago with his new wife,” Miss Valencia says, and Galavant flinches as if he’s been hit. Sid winces; she can’t have known what bringing up the new Mrs. King would do to him.

“He got elected pretty quickly,” she continues, giving Galavant an odd look but not pressing the issue, “and he started pushing this law forward right away. He’s just using it to increase his own wealth and power, but everyone else on the city council is too afraid of him to say anything. They all let him do whatever he wants, but no one likes him, and his poor wife always looks so miserable.”

Galavant’s breath catches, and Sid feels that spike of hope again. Miss Valencia doesn’t know it, but she’s just said the most effective thing she possibly could to keep his attention.

“Is everything all right?” Miss Valencia asks, tentative, after a moment passes with Galavant’s jaw clenched purposefully and Sid nervously looking back and forth between the two of them.

“Everything,” Gal says, sounding more and more like his old self with every word, “is excellent. Miss Valencia, pack your bags—”

“I don’t have any bags,” Miss Valencia says, bewildered.

“—because we’re going to save your family business, and get this law repealed,” he continues, and Sid can feel himself perking up like a flower in the sunlight. That’s the friend he’s been missing; that’s the man Gal used to be. _Finally._

“Really?” Miss Valencia asks, sounding more incredulous than grateful, but it doesn’t deter Galavant from giving her a wide, glowing grin. (Sid can’t help noticing, amused, that despite the terrible first impression Gal made, Miss Valencia doesn’t look entirely unaffected by it.)

“Yes, really,” Galavant says, and turns the grin onto Sid (who, annoyingly, isn’t entirely unaffected by it either, even after years). “Sid—we’re going to fight some injustice. Are you in?”

And Sid beams, because he’s always had trouble saying no, and he has no desire whatsoever to do so in this case. “Absolutely. Let’s do this.”


End file.
